


'Turned Out Nice Again!'

by skippi



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Christmas, F/F, Fluff, Pupcake - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-13 06:09:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9110005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skippi/pseuds/skippi
Summary: Delia's Christmas day turned out a little differently to how she had expected. Not much in the way of plot. Just Yuletide fluffiness!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at fan fiction. I am not a writer and have found it incredibly difficult transferring what is in my head onto the page. I am absolutely enchanted by the couple though, so wanted to give it a bash regardless! I have been reading the work on here for a couple of months now and honestly don’t know how you do it. It’s all fabulously well written. Hats off to you all.

Delia chewed thoughtfully on a nut. She had changed into her uniform early; eager to avoid the earnest discussions about the impending trip to South Africa, and was now sitting alone in the parlour with a Bakelite bowl full of nuts resting on her lap. She sighed. Whichever way she looked at it, four weeks was a terribly long time. It was wrong, she knew, to be thinking of herself when there were others in so much need but the thought of being apart from Patsy for such a long time made her feel physically sick. There were days when their paths hardly crossed, and of course there was the accident, but living together in Nonnatus had made Delia complacent. She knew that despite unfavourable shifts, there was always a shared smile in the hallway, a quick squeeze of a knee under the kitchen table, or a late night cuddle in her room to see her through the day. With Pats half way across the world, even a telephone call would most likely be out of the question. She scowled as she huffily placed a nut between the metal nut crackers and gripped tightly.

‘Bugger!’

Tutting loudly, Delia began to pick pieces of broken shell from the front of her grey uniform as the door swung open to reveal a tall, red-headed figure in the doorway. Delia lifted her gaze to see the back of Patsy's head as she addressed an unseen body in the hall.

‘Nurse Crane… has anyone told you, you are an absolute brick.’

‘Oh, go on with you,’ a thick Northern accent replied.

Patsy turned and closed the door gently behind her before flashing Delia a weary smile. Delia couldn’t help think how beautiful she was, in spite of how exhausted she looked.

‘How did it go?’ Delia asked with concern, remembering Doctor Turner mentioning complications as he left for the clinic after lunch. ‘Was everything alright?’

Patsy nodded. ‘No caesarean required after all,’ she said proudly. ‘The little chap and his mother are doing splendidly.’

A dark, lustful expression suddenly washed over Patsy’s face as she locked her blue eyes on the Brazil nut Delia was still clutching.

‘Oh gosh, may I?’ she breathed longingly as she strode over to the settee and perched herself next to Delia. ‘I’m absolutely ravenous.’

Delia chuckled softly as she plucked the last remaining piece of shell from the nut and held it up to Patsy’s accepting lips, before removing a walnut from the bowl, and setting to work once more with the crackers.

‘Honestly,’ Patsy continued, swallowing, ‘one really might have thought the Christmas spirit would have stretched to sending a care package of cake along to a hard-working midwife in her hour of need. Assuming of course Sister Monica Joan hadn’t polished the entire thing off for breakfast.’

Delia smiled sadly, passing Patsy a freshly-shelled nut. Even cake had failed to cheer the otherwise insatiable Sister Monica Joan today. She had been subdued for much of the morning, refusing to join in with the impromptu carol singing over breakfast, and retiring to her room as soon as Sister Julienne had revealed the news of Sister Frances and Hope clinic to the rest of Nonnatus House. Delia had knocked softly on the Sister’s door on her way to her own room to change into her uniform, wanting to make sure that there wasn’t anything she needed, but there had been no answer.

‘Well, you do have a plate warming in the oven. Although I'm not sure how enticing that would be to you now. I imagine it is dryer than a Nun’s…’

'Delia!' Patsy hissed, clamping a hand over her mouth to prevent spraying the brunette with fragments of the nut she was chewing. She turned hurriedly towards the mercifully still closed door to make certain that nobody clad in black and white had overheard Delia’s blasphemous comment.

Delia smirked wickedly at the scandalised look Patsy was now giving her. She loved eliciting such a response from her girlfriend. She had always taken great delight in relaying saucy anecdotes, or whispering the most inappropriate things at inappropriate moments, in front of inappropriate company, just to see that look of wide-eyed incredulity on her face. Of course, the facade of innocence and incorruptibility that the red-head staunchly tried to maintain, was just that. It didn’t fool her, or anyone else for that matter, for a second. She knew that underneath it all, and despite the well practiced looks of disapproval, Patience Mount had more than a little off white sense of humour, and enjoyed flirting with indecency just as much as she did.

And as if to prove that point, right on cue, Delia watched as Patsy’s twinkling blue eyes narrowed as she broke into one of her lopsided smiles and lent forward so that her face was mere inches away from her own.

‘Wash your mouth Nurse Busby,’ Patsy whispered huskily, deftly plucking a shelled nut from Delia’s fingers and popping it into her mouth. ‘I do not wish to think of such things.’ She leant back, increasing the distance between them once more and winked. 'Not at Yuletide anyway.’

Delia tried to ignore the warm and no doubt pink-tinged flush that was now making steady progress along her chest and speeding its way up to her face. Being so close to Patsy always made her feel a little giddy but usually she could hide it. Her traitorous eyes were often the only inescapable tell-tale sign of her utter adoration and wondering mind. Perhaps it was the wine she had partaken in over lunch that was interfering with her control. She was careful to only have a single glass, knowing she was on duty with St. John's later that evening, but wine was the one thing that had always gone straight to her head… and legs for that matter.

The recollection of being supported home by her furious Mam after only two Babychams at her cousin's birthday party, was interrupted by the touch of a warm hand resting on her thigh.

‘Oh Deels, you waited.’

Delia followed Patsy’s gaze to the twinkling Christmas tree in the corner of the room, and to a small pile of presents laying untouched beneath it.

‘Of course,’ Delia beamed, laying a hand atop of Patsy’s. ’Besides, things became a little hectic after the news from the Mother House.’

‘Yes, Doctor Turner told me. How frightfully sad.’

Delia didn’t want to waste their remaining moments thinking about Patsy’s impending trip to South Africa. Laying the bowl and nutcrackers down beside her, she glanced down at her watch. ‘Come on. I have to leave for my shift in a quarter of an hour.’

She stood, still holding onto Patsy’s hand before gently leading her over to the tree. She knelt down, smoothing her dress underneath her as she lowered herself onto her heels. Patsy responded to the soft tugging on her hand, allowing herself to be pulled down to the floor beside Delia.

Delia reached towards the colourfully wrapped presents and retrieved her own gift from those that others had left for Patsy. She smiled broadly as she pressed the small box wrapped in green and gold into the red-head’s hands. Patsy returned the smile before eagerly tearing at the wrapping. She lifted the lid off the box and gasped. ‘Now how on earth did you know I was down to mere fumes?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow as she held a decorative glass perfume bottle in her hand.

‘Intuition,’ Delia said smugly. ‘And… maybe I happened to notice as I casually glanced at your dresser one day, after quite innocently sneaking into your room,’ she added, with a flash of dimples.

Patsy placed the bottle back into the box and glanced over her shoulder towards the door. She turned back and lent forward slowly, pressing a soft kiss onto Delia’s lips. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, ‘it’s my favourite.’

Delia’s smile relaxed as she became lost in Patsy’s blue eyes, which were gazing lovingly into her own and sparkling with the reflected lights from the tree. She wanted to say that she knew it was. That it was her favourite too. That it was the scent that, mingled with bleach, filled Delia with a feeling of warmth and safety. The scent that was so undeniably Pats. But she couldn’t find her voice.

A long moment passed, before Patsy eventually leaned over Delia and picked up a large, flat, square parcel, wrapped in red tissue paper and tied with yellow ribbon. ‘Your turn I think.’

Delia looked down at the package Patsy had placed with a knowing smile on her lap, and shook it playfully. Ignoring the red-head’s cocked eyebrow, she gently pulled at the yellow bow and removed the ribbon, delicately placing it in her cardigan pocket before gently moving aside the tissue paper to reveal a record sleeve. A small squeal of excitement escaped from the brunette as she launched herself forward and wrapped her arms tightly around Patsy’s neck. ‘You remembered!’

‘Oof!’ Patsy returned the hug with one arm as the other struggled to keep them both from collapsing into a heap on the floor from the sheer force of Delia’s exuberance.

It was just like her sweet, precious Patsy to remember something that would seem so insignificant and forgettable to most other people. It had been just a throw away remark about Delia’s favourite 78" getting lost in her move to London, and her unsuccessful attempts in finding a replacement, one evening over a friendly whiskey in her room at the nursing home. Patsy had obviously noticed how much it had meant to her and had quietly been keeping a steely blue eye out for the record ever since. It had been the first Delia had ever owned. Her dad had given her some money for working in the shop one summer when she was fifteen and she had caught the bus into Pembroke the very next day to make the purchase. Alright, so George Formby wasn’t everyone’s cup-of-Typhoo, not least Patsy’s, who rolled her eyes at the revelation that night, but Delia did so enjoy a double entendre, and the cheeky Lancastrian never failed to lift her spirits.

Delia finally lessened her grip on Patsy and released her arms from around her neck. She picked up the record and started to read the cover, softly trailing her hand over the cardboard sleeve.

‘Where did you find it?’ she said, as she looked up Into Patsy’s pleased face.

‘Portobello Road. There was rather an ugly scene I’m afraid. It seems that I wasn’t the only one in search of such a masterpiece.’ She smirked and raised her eyebrows pointedly at Delia. ‘There was a small skirmish but the chap eventually yielded and one Patience Mount emerged victorious.'

Delia wasn’t surprised in the slightest to hear this. She had borne witness on numerous occasions to patients being on the receiving end of Nurse Mount’s wrath. She chuckled as she imagined the unfortunate man in question wilting under one of her well practiced looks, honed to perfection during three years on male surgical. The poor bugger didn’t stand a chance!

‘It also helped that the stallholder was thoroughly on my side,’ Patsy continued. 'We have become quite familiar over the years.'

‘Have you been looking all this time?’

Patsy bit her lip and looked down shyly, before lifting her head and nodding with a small smile.

‘Oh Pats,’ Delia breathed, reaching a hand forward to gently cup Patsy’s face. ‘You really are an Angel.’

For a few silent moments, Delia stroked her thumb across Patsy’s cheek, revelling in the warmth and touch of soft skin. She moved her hand slowly to the back of Patsy’s neck and gently pulled her head down as she leaned forward. Before their lips could meet, the door was flung open and they hurriedly sprang apart as Nurse Crane’s Yorkshire tones filled the room.

‘And might I suggest, that one of you extracts Nurse Mount’s luncheon and sets to with the Bisto. Poor kid must be starving. Nurse Mount,’ she continued, as she turned and strode purposefully into the room. ‘Sister Julienne wishes to speak with you in her office.’

Patsy gave Delia a sheepish look as she got to her feet and smoothed down her uniform. ‘Of course. ’

‘Mmm… George Formby,’ Nurse Crane observed, as she walked past Delia and sat on an arm chair next to the tree. ‘I never was right struck on the fellow I must say. Still, each to their own, isn’t that right Nurse Busby?’ she said, looking up from her satsuma.

‘Um, well…’ Delia spluttered, not quite sure how to respond.

‘Oh, and thank you for the gloves girls. Most thoughtful of you.’

‘You’re very welcome,’ Patsy said with a grin. ‘I hope they come in handy.’

Delia attempted, not entirely successfully, to stifle a laugh at the uncharacteristic yet deliberate pun.

‘Yes, yes, very good,’ Nurse Crane conceded somewhat grudgingly. ‘Now you had better not keep Sister Julienne waiting. And when you’ve finished, for heaven’s sake lass, get some food inside of you.’

Patsy turned to Delia as she reached the doorway and gave her a look as if to say; _I’m sorry. I’ll wait up for you, alright?_

They had become very adept at reading one another’s expressions over the years. Not having the freedom to talk candidly when in the company of others meant that they had developed a whole facial language of their own to encapsulate and transmit their silent words.

 _Alright. I love you_. Delia spoke soundlessly in return.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the final part - more fluff I’m afraid! A huge thank you to steph for her proof reading and helpful suggestions. Happy New Year!

Delia flumped onto her bed with a weary sigh. The night had not turned out exactly how she had imagined. She had envisaged singing loudly and enthusiastically alongside the cheery, red-faced congregation, and enjoying a crafty mince pie or two as she provided first aid cover at the community carol service at St. Mathias Church. Instead however, she had been sent to the corner of the East India Dock Road where a rowdy group of Polish sailors had just finished bashing seven bells out of each other. So much for Christmas spirit she had thought as she bathed swollen eyes and pulled fragments of glass from sheepish men’s faces.

In fact, she concluded as she bent down to untie her shoes, the whole day had failed to turn out as she had planned. She had wanted to spend more time with Patsy but instead had to make do with a hurried Merry Christmas at breakfast and a brief exchange before her shift. It had been lovely, she admitted, smiling to herself, but brief all the same. She had been looking forward to getting home all evening. The thought of Patsy’s warm, strong arms wrapped around her, and nuzzling into the red-head’s neck had pervaded her mind on more than one occasion that evening, but there had been no light showing under her door as Delia lingered hopefully on the landing.

She leant back as she forcefully pulled off one of her shoes with a small grunt, and promptly dropped it with a startled gasp when she saw Patsy smiling at her from the doorway. She looked utterly adorable standing there, in her deep red and green checked pyjamas and Father Christmas hat. Of the many smiles of Patience Elizabeth Mount, this was Delia’s absolute favourite. For all her waxing lyrical about Delia’s dimples, Patsy seemed completely oblivious as to how gorgeous the soft creases bookending her own smile made her look.

Patsy closed the door quietly and padded forward as Delia rose from the bed to meet her. Beaming, the brunette placed her hands on Patsy’s hips as they held one another in the middle of the room.

‘Hello,’ Patsy purred, running a hand softly up Delia’s arm.

‘Hello.’ Delia grinned coyly, ‘I thought you were asleep.’

‘No,’ she contradicted with a smirk, gently brushing the fringe from Delia’s eyes, ‘but Trixie is.’ She wrapped her arms around Delia’s shoulders and tilted her head to one side suggestively before continuing. ‘Do you like my hat?’

‘I love it,’ Delia said, hugging Patsy’s waist tightly.

 They grinned foolishly at one another for a moment before Patsy slowly lowered her head towards Delia, pausing when a finger was pressed teasingly to her lips.

‘Are you quite sure Phyllis won’t be putting in an appearance?’

Patsy chuckled. ‘Judging from the snoring I heard as I passed, quite certain.’

‘I thought I could feel the walls shaking.’

Smiling tenderly, Delia moved her hand to Patsy’s cheek and gently stroked a thumb along her bottom lip. She could feel the rise and fall of Patsy’s chest begin to deepen as she closed her eyes and allowed the breath that she had been holding to escape. The kiss was soft, warm, and slow. And Sweet. The trace of whisky and cigarettes Delia was familiar with was joined by a sweeter taste. Like Christmas, she mused, as the kiss continued languidly.

‘Sherry,’ Delia announced triumphantly, as they broke apart.

Patsy narrowed her eyes in thought. ‘Oh sorry. Yes,’ she breathed. ‘Would you like some? The bottle is in my room.’

‘No,’ Delia chuckled, ‘I think bourbon will be just fine.’

She reached up and planted a light peck on Patsy’s cheek before turning and heading over to the chest of drawers. She picked up the half empty bottle and considered it for a moment before unscrewing the lid. She glanced briefly over her shoulder to see Patsy propping pillows against the headboard of the bed and settling back against them. Smiling to herself as she recalled the night she had first tasted American whiskey, she poured two generous measures and returned the lid to the bottle.

'So what have you been up to while I’ve been out, freezing, having to fight off very drunk and very amorous sailors?' She asked as she handed a glass to Patsy and sat down on the bed.

‘Do I really want to know?’ Patsy enquired with a lop-sided grin. 

‘Probably best not to,’  she smiled.

Well,’ Patsy began, taking a long breath, ‘After my deliciously moist supper,’ she continued, raising her eyebrows pointedly towards the brunette, ‘I enjoyed a blissfully relaxing soak in the bath.’

Delia took a large swallow from her glass and smirked as she struggled to keep her mind from drifting to thoughts of Patsy immersed in water.

‘Then,’ she went on, ‘I played rather an interesting game of Happy Families with Sister Monica Joan, before she insisted we watch The Black and White Minstrel Show.’  

Chuckling, Delia imagined Patsy’s horrified face as she realised the extent of Sister Monica Joan's cheating. She had played with the Sister herself before, being beaten every time and never once being quite sure how. She supposed it could be a hand from God, but she thought it much more likely to be sown in sleeve pockets. Delia was pleased however, to hear that she was feeling better.

‘Did she have any cake?’

'I rather lost count after the fourth slice.'

Patsy put her glass down on the bedside table and patted the mattress beside her.

‘Come on.’

She took Delia’s glass and placed it next to her own as the brunette crawled beside her. Rearranging the pillows, Patsy scooted down the bed and wrapped an arm around Delia as she rested her head on her chest.

‘Deels?’ Patsy said, after a few moments of silence.

‘Hmm?’ She idly circled a finger around a pyjama button as her hand rested on Patsy’s stomach. When no answer came, she glanced up questioningly.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Patsy eventually whispered.

Whatever it was, Delia thought, she knew not to push. She snuggled in closer and tucked a foot in between the red-head’s calves. Responding, Patsy shifted her legs so that both feet were enclosed in their warmth as they lay in comfortable silence. Delia smiled softly at the gesture and closed her eyes. She really did live for these moments; feeling safe and warm in Patsy’s arms, as though nothing in the world could hurt her. What with Delia eager to gain additional experience by accompanying the other midwifes on calls and the usual frenetic schedule during the lead up to Christmas, there hadn’t been too many opportunities to be together like this over the past few weeks. There would be fewer still soon enough, she mused, with just a fortnight before they would spend four entire weeks apart. Four weeks, she thought, her mood darkening, as her brain perniciously pushed thoughts of South Africa out from the shadows of her mind, where they had been skulking quite happily since Patsy returned from the clinic that afternoon. She sighed heavily.

‘Deels?’ Patsy tilted her chin down to look at the brunette. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Hmm?’ mumbled Delia absently. ‘Oh,’ she continued, looking up into Patsy’s concerned eyes. ‘Just that I’m going to miss this.’

‘Miss what? When? What do you mean?’

‘When you’re in South Africa.’

‘What makes you think I’m going to South Africa?’

‘Well, aren’t you?’

‘No,’ Patsy smiled, ‘I’m not as it happens. Sister Julienne has asked me to take charge whilst she’s away.’

‘Really?’ Delia excitedly sat up and beamed down at the red-head. ‘Oh Pats, that’s wonderful. I just assumed Phyllis…’ 

‘Apparently not.’

‘Besides,’ Patsy teased, pulling Delia back down into her arms, ‘what exactly made you assume _you_ wouldn’t be going yourself?’

‘Well,’ Delia considered, ‘I haven’t been here all that long, have I?’

‘No,’ Patsy gazed down proudly, ‘but you are every bit as capable.’

‘‘Well, I’m glad,’ Delia sighed, as she toyed with the top button on Patsy’s pyjamas, before snapping her head up with a sudden, panicky thought. ‘I’m not am I? Going I mean?’

The red-head chuckled as she gently eased Delia’s head back down. ‘You may wish you were when you realise how rushed off our feet we will be. Still,’ she continued playfully, ‘there _is_ a silver lining.’

‘Hmm?’

‘We will have Nonnatus to ourselves. Well, almost. Just Sisters Monica Joan and Mary Cynthia will be keeping us company.’

‘Really?’

Patsy nodded.

I like the sound of that,’ Delia whispered, grinning impishly as she reached a hand up to stroke Patsy’s cheek.

‘So do I.’

They stared longingly at one another for a few moments, before Delia moved forward to softly capture the red-head’s lips with her own. Patsy responded eagerly, shifting her body to face her lover as the kiss slowly deepened and their breathing grew heavy. Delia, desperate for more contact, trailed her fingers over Patsy’s collar bone before continuing downwards. She froze as, instead of the breast she had been anticipating, she felt something hard and angular under her hand. 

‘Pats what?’ she exclaimed as she broke off the kiss, staring in bewilderment at the red-head’s chest.

‘Your present,’ Patsy said quietly, clearing her throat. ‘You honestly didn’t believe you only had one did you?’ she added after seeing the look on Delia’s face.

In truth, Delia hadn’t given it much thought. The record had been the perfect gift, and she couldn’t think of anything more special. She inwardly cursed herself for caving in after a particularly harrowing day shadowing Nurse Crane, and eating the box of Black Magic chocolates meant for her girlfriend. Feeling a pang of guilt wash over her, she watched as Patsy sat up and removed a small rectangular box wrapped in yellow tissue paper from the breast pocket of her pyjamas and held it out with a shy smile. Delia scooted herself to the edge of the bed and smoothed down her dress.

‘You really didn’t need to,’ she said softly, as she gently took the box from Patsy’s outstretched hand.

‘I wanted to,’ Patsy whispered, dropping her hand to Delia’s thigh and squeezing gently. ‘Now are you going to open it or not?’

Grinning in response, Delia untied the silver string that was keeping the paper in place and began carefully folding back layers of tissue paper. She removed the final piece and stared. Why on earth had Patsy given her a box of matches? Lifting her eyes to Patsy’s expectant face, she gave a bemused look.

Patsy nodded. ‘Open it.’

She pressed her thumb to the edge of the matchbox and gently pushed it open, chuckling to herself as she discovered yet more tissue paper, this time purple. Pats had really gone to town with the wrappings this year, she thought with mild amusement, comparing her rainbow-like selection to her own, single coloured offerings. She moved the paper aside and froze when she saw what was nestled within.

‘Pats,’ she breathed.

‘I thought it was time I bought you a replacement.’

Delia looked up. ‘But how did you…?’ 

‘Do you like it?’

‘It’s beautiful.’ 

Patsy smiled softly. ‘Just like you.’

Delia watched as Patsy took the ring from the box and gently slid it onto her finger. It was a perfect fit. Just like the two of them she thought contentedly. She smiled down at the simple, elegant gold band; mesmerised at the way the light from the bedside lamp reflected off the sparkling stones. Two small diamonds were set either side of a larger, central emerald. It was the most beautiful shade of green Delia had ever seen. An overwhelming feeling of completeness washed over her. Like she had just found the missing piece of a jigsaw, and a colourful image, full of joy and detail was being revealed as the final part was being smoothed down into place. That feeling was tinged with a hint of sadness, knowing that the ring couldn’t remain on her finger for long, but she knew that wearing it close to her heart was just as special.

She thought warmly back to the night Patsy had given her her Grandmother’s engagement ring. It was the moment she realised that it didn’t matter if they were the only two people in the world who knew what they meant to one another. That she didn’t need permission, or a fancy stamped certificate to validate their commitment. The love they had shared that night in her room at the Nurses home, and their whispered promises in the dark, had taught her that. And whenever she felt the inevitable, desperate, longing for what everyone else had, she only needed to remember that moment. And now this one.

 ‘Thank you.’  Delia pulled Patsy in close and hugged her tightly, burying her face and muffling words into Patsy’s shoulder.

Patsy heaved a sigh of relief as she idly caressed Delia’s back. ‘I love you too.’

Delia let go and quickly stood up, surreptitiously wiping away the moisture on her cheeks with the back of her hand. She marched over to an ornate, carved wooden jewellery box resting on top of her dressing table. She hadn’t worn it since the accident – hadn’t wanted to wear it after the accident, but she knew it was there. Her fingers hastily moved aside various ear-rings and bracelets, and pulled on the ribbon that lifted up the base of the velvet lined box to reveal a single gold necklace.

Delia gave a wistful sigh as she allowed the chain to slide slowly through her fingers. She hated herself for thinking ill of her Mam but could there really be another explanation? The necklace hadn’t been broken, and was _there_ , wrapped carefully in paper, sitting alongside her other personal effects from the hospital. They hadn’t spoken about it, but Delia was sure that Patsy had drawn the same conclusion. After all, her Mam _had_ held back the letters Delia had written to Patsy during her recovery hadn’t she? Failing to post them through fear she supposed. Fear of losing her daughter, and fear of _who_ her daughter was. She must have found the ring, recognised what it meant and thought she could wish it all away by hiding it, along with all that it symbolised. Delia had never had the courage to ask her outright, but since the trip to Paris, things had changed. There seemed to be, to Delia at least, an unspoken understanding between them. Perhaps… one day, she thought, she might find that courage.

Warm, soft hands broke her train of thought as they suddenly encased her own. Delia looked up to see Patsy looking at her with tender concern. Taking the necklace, Patsy gently pulled the ring from Delia’s finger and began threading it through the chain, her blue eyes searching all the while for any sign of unease on Delia’s face. Delia smiled and turned her back to allow Patsy to pass the chain delicately over her head. She felt the clasp being secured and a soft kiss being placed on the back of her neck, before arms snaked around her waist and pulled her lightly into the red-head’s warmth. Patsy guided them both backwards until their reflections were visible in the dressing table mirror, and lowered her chin onto Delia’s shoulder. Delia lifted her hand to the ring and fingered it lazily as she smiled at their reflected image. She chuckled softly. Patsy really did look adorable in that hat. They gazed in silence for a few moments longer before Patsy turned her head and whispered into the hollow beneath Delia’s ear.

‘Merry Christmas Deels.’

Delia closed her eyes and released a long sigh as she felt Patsy’s warm breath on her neck. This surely was some sort of heaven, she thought mistily as she leant further back into the red-head. Opening her eyes, she turned slowly and placed her hands on Patsy’s shoulders, holding herself steady as she stretched up on her toes for a soft, lingering kiss.

‘Merry Christmas sweetheart.’

She was lost again she knew. Time seemed to stand still whenever she gazed into those shining blue eyes. She felt the familiar ripple of excitement   in her stomach join the wave of heat beginning to course through her body once more. A devilish grin began to creep onto her face.

‘I have a confession to make.’

‘Oh?’ Patsy cocked an eyebrow as she began playing with strands of loose hair that had escaped from Delia’s bun, winding it slowly around her fingers.

‘Well,’ Delia teased, playing with the collar of Patsy’s pyjamas as her gaze fell, ‘there was a slight mishap with your other present.’

‘Hmm?’

Quite tragic really,’ she continued. ‘A proper tale of confectionary heartbreak and woe.’

Patsy smirked. ‘Yes?’

‘Yes, well, the upshot is,’ Delia said, her eyes following the downward journey of her trailing fingers, pausing to appreciate, with satisfaction the rapid thudding of Patsy’s heart beneath her hands, ‘you will have to make do with me instead.’

‘Oh, is that so Miss Busby?’ Patsy breathed, resting her forehead onto Delia’s, before leaning forward and whispering onto the brunette’s lips. ‘Well it just so happens that I can’t think of a more perfect gift.’

They smiled into the kiss that started tenderly, but soon escalated as their passion grew. Delia groaned softly, all thoughts of guilt tainted chocolates abandoned, as their tongues met and firm hands moved over her backside. She had intended making a joke about being unwrapped, and Christmas stockings, but now, the only thought that entered her head as Patsy pulled her down onto the bed was that the day had turned out quite nicely after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :)
> 
> Should mention for those not familiar with George Formby, that ‘Turned Out Nice Again’ was his catchphrase, taken from the Ealing comedy film of the same name in which he starred.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the poor punctuation and any typos. I use speech software to access a PC and it isn’t always easy to pick up on mistakes, or even to gage the flow of a sentence in the same way as you would read with your eyes.


End file.
